


Bridling the Moon

by LazlosLulls



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, Corporate Espionage, Crossdressing, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Gratuitous Japanese, He only has one (1) shade of grey in him that's it no more!, Horses, I took a sledgehammer to Shiro's self-esteem and I'm only a little sorry, Implied/Referenced Animal Abuse, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Art, Irony, Men Wearing Dresses, Partial Nudity, Pining, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Prosthetic Arm, Romance, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Thunderstorms, Toxic Masculinity, badass allura, evil lotor, give boys flowers!!! boys need flowers!, it's not kinky it's just for fun, malicious compliance, rhetorical questions about traditions, rich bitch Lotor, there are so many bad conversations in this, women wearing suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazlosLulls/pseuds/LazlosLulls
Summary: Having moved to the small English hamlet of Arus only weeks ago, Shiro wasn’t sure what to expect of the Spring Dance. A gathering where the women wore suits and the men wore dresses was strange to imagine.If he can’t imagine that, he certainly can’t imagine being swept off his feet by the enigmatic Allura Altea.Inspired by that Iconic 80s Romance Novel Redraw by RougePaladin. Link in the Fic!
Relationships: Allura/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Bridling the Moon

[Inspired by this Iconic 80s Romance Novel Cover Art Redraw by RougePaladin](https://roguepaladin.tumblr.com/post/627746487335567360/80s-romance-novel-draw-your-otp-as-challenge)

> “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” -Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

While Takashi Shirogane _was_ a single man, he hasn’t _had_ good fortune in his life, but he was on his way to _building_ a good fortune. Ergo, he’s not in want of a wife quite yet. He’d settle for friends that weren’t farm animals at this point. It’s not that he was ungrateful for his position as a translator in Zarkon’s international trading company. Traveling the world was something he’s always wanted to do. Leaving Japan and coming to England, in a small, multicultural hamlet of Arus was thrilling. Lately, he’s only traveled as far as the local office and the Holt’s Estate, so he was eager to actually meet the people Zarkon had been trading with. It was just Shiro’s luck that the week he had time to actually socialize, the social rules were all changed around. There was a dance where the woman would wear suits and the men would wear dresses. It was a town tradition, they said. A bit of fun in the rainy spring months before the hot summer.

His employer’s son, Lotor, had even taken him out to get a dress. The local tailor, Coran Smythe, while surprised, gladly helped him choose bolts of fabric that would be suitable. Coran had even insisted on Lotor getting fitted; it wouldn’t do well for such an affluent young fellow to be seen in last year’s dress.

The week had gone by even faster, now that he had something to look forward to. Shiro had woken the day of the party before dawn, like usual. Even across the world, there were still farm chores to be done. The Holts weren’t fantastically rich, but proper management of their land kept them secure. He followed Colleen around, even if at some points he was only a friendly voice. Shiro never minded lending a hand, it reminded him of his childhood, tending to his home with his grandfather.

Caring for the horses was never a chore for him. Talking with Black while he groomed her was his favorite part of the day. She was Zarkon’s, only borrowed to Shiro as he was too busy to tend to her. The mare was beautiful, but trying to bridle her was like bridling the moon itself. A far off dream, practically impossible. He could admit, at the beginning, he wanted to ride her directly into town as soon as he could, show everyone what he could accomplish.

Yet, the more he worked with Black, the more he saw something familiar in her. Those weeks after he had lost his arm, he’d also been unruly, lashing out wildly one moment and catatonic the next. Whatever had happened to Black seemed to have the same effect. Shiro was content to watch her moods, trying to guide her through recovery like he had been. He keeps his progress quiet; if this is how Zarkon treated animals under his care, it didn’t bode well for people under his care.

Colleen tutted strangely when Coran’s apprentice delivered the dress. She handed Shiro the package, and told him to knock if he needed help. The dress itself was two layers; a white linen dress with lacing at the bottom, and a deep blue top layer cut to show the white, with plain bows. Traditionally, there was a corset, Coran had explained, for back support and shaping the silhouette, but with his shape, it wasn’t needed. He maneuvered his wooden forearm onto the dresser, using his other hand to pull the long sleeves upward.

Shiro looked in the mirror and stilled.

The tailor was very good at his job, the straps of his prosthetic were completely covered over at least. His hand immediately went to his hair, unconsciously trying to gather it back in a topknot. Short hair was the style of men in the West, Zarkon said, but that didn’t fully explain why he allowed Lotor to keep his long. With the scar, the shock of white on his bangs, the undercut his employer _insisted_ he should have, Shiro didn’t even recognize himself. If he covered his chest, and maybe wrapped a bolt of fabric around his middle, he almost felt like he was in his festival yukata. A pang of homesickness filled his chest.

He looked over at his leather work shoes, feeling they weren’t quite right for the occasion. Shiro went to his closet and pulled out his geta and tabi. They would be hidden underneath the skirt, anyway. He glided across the floor now, feeling comfortable, grounded in the familiar wooden shoes. Shiro saw himself smile in the mirror. He knocked on the door. Pidge answered, smiling far too widely in her green waistcoat. She helped fix the ribbons on his sleeves while he talked her through the bowtie. It was a blessedly short trip to the Klaizap Estate, the oldest and most venerated of Arus. He didn’t want to sit in the stuffy carriage, but he couldn’t ride a horse in that dress.

The party was outside, in a beautifully tended garden. The sky was a wide open, beautiful blue, with groupings of clouds in the distance. Shiro helped his companions out of the carriage before looking at the crowd. No one seemed to have noticed their arrival, instead focused on themselves. There were scores of people dancing, in bright suits and hats with flowers in their brims.

There were no billowing skirts in sight.

Shiro’s fingers clenched in the fabric of the dress for a moment. He tried to look again, thinking he may be mistaken. He caught piercing blue eyes from the crowd; Shiro looked quickly away, unsettled by their gaze.

Colleen tutted again, patting his shoulder in a way he thought may be motherly. Pidge didn’t seem to notice anything wrong, instead finding a lovely boy with a wide brimmed hat and a sunflower. He inhaled, rationalizing that there were probably others indoors. Shiro thanked Colleen, breaking away from her and going into the crowd.

As suspected, he saw the ladies first. Lotor always drew a small crowd to him, had them hanging off of each word. Shiro’s heart sunk as he noticed the well-fitted purple waistcoat, matching with the ribbon and lavender in his derby hat.

That lying _bastard_.

Shiro stood frozen in rage for a moment too long, as Lotor noticed. He held his slim fingers up to his mouth, laughing politely. “Oh! Shirogane!” He beckoned, eyes sparking in mirth.

Much unlike a dog to its master, Shiro reluctantly came into the circle. “Lotor,” he said flatly. “Did you forget to pay Coran for his work?”

The heir only shrugged, a touch of embarrassment on his features. “I seemed to have ordered the dress a little late, poor Coran couldn’t finish it in time. The hat is what’s really in style.” Lotor tipped it, smirking. “Did you forget to bring yours? It would really pull your dress together. There’s still time to go back to your sponsors, after all.”

Anger burned in his heart as he felt the insult against his living situation. If Lotor thought he was going to just run away with his tail between his legs, he had another thing coming. “No, I’ll stay. This place is much better than your father’s Estate.” And he bowed shallowly and moved before he could say another word.

Shiro made a direct line to the large hedges in the garden, darting behind them and away from everyone. He breathed in and out, centering himself. So his instincts were right, Lotor was sabotaging him. Despair curled around his ankles, creeping up into his heart. He felt the skirt in his fingers. He wanted to make a good first impression, and Lotor had _known_ and decided to hurt his chances.

Well, _screw_ him. Shiro thought angrily. No more late nights. No more hovering over Lotor’s work. He’s going to go out and enjoy himself. He might even look for a new employer.

He scanned for an opening, anyone he could recognize – and he _did_ recognize someone. Miss Allura Altea. His heart skipped a beat. She was surveying the crowd with a small glass of punch in her hand, giving the air of being in complete control. Her starlight hair was pinned up, curls out of the way. The pale pink shirt she had on was rolled up her brown forearms, contrasting her cream vest and gray slacks. Miss Altea was an only child, the head and heir to a rival trading company from India. By all accounts, she was even more ruthless than anyone he’d ever known. He’s heard gossip that she would never yield control of her company to anyone, not even a husband.

He hoped she didn’t recognize him. She had come into the office and interrogated Lotor about their contracts. They had gone over it, line by line with detailed notes on which promises weren’t kept. Shiro was mortified by the lack of honor on Zarkon’s part, and quietly terrified of her determination. Lotor kept his composure, but by the end of the day he was losing his mind. If that’s how she treated an equal, Shiro feared what she did to her employees.

He made it a point to leave the hedges while she wasn’t looking.

Shiro drifted through the party, mingling with the townsfolk. He was good at that, steering through the ebb and flow of polite talk with ease. He wasn’t finding anything to connect over, but this was only an introduction. Shiro could build friendships with time and patience. He caught up with Pidge, and her friend Hunk, the lovely boy with the sunflower. They were speaking their own kind of language, of clockwork gears and machinery. Shiro found it curious to watch, ideas being flung back and forth until they became blueprints.

There was a lovely laugh, loud and bright, and Shiro turned his head to see who had arrived. Coran, the tailor, had stepped from his carriage, lifting his skirt gently upward as not to step on it.

Shiro stepped forward to speak with him, utterly confused. Too many questions were on his tongue. Why did he hold his tongue when Lotor made the request? Why was he dressed like that, if he knew? Why didn't he tell Shiro?

The tailor had caught his eye as well, smiling. “Ah! Welcome, love!” Coran made a twirl, and his beautiful yellow dress billowed around him. “I thought I’d join you.”

He felt heat creep up his cheeks, and gave a quick bow, “Thank you, Coran.”

“Oh, I think I should thank _you_. I haven’t had an excuse to look this nice in ages.” The tailor put his fingers to his chin in thought, “You know, it used to be that men _did_ wear dresses, but they ended up weaseling out of it a few years back.” Coran shook his head, frowning. “What a shame, I missed the challenge! So much so I even helped my apprentices!”

Shiro looked at the crowd again. There was a young man, with tan skin and an aquamarine dress, leaning into a conversation with a group of blushing ladies. There was another, pale and sharp eyed, in ruby red. One of the girls had picked up the skirt, feeling the fabric, and he could hear the apprentice explain how he made it.

Coran continued, “We had such a good time, we almost forgot about Lotor’s order. _Obviously_ he wanted it rushed, but I didn’t see him wearing it. Isn’t that strange?” he said. Something about his tone made if feel like a false question.

“Did he like it?” Shiro ventured.

Coran laughed, “Oh, he was yelling so loudly I nearly went deaf! He did pay his dues, the good lad."

Shiro felt glee in his heart, that Lotor wasted money for trying to humiliate him. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t lost his voice, he yells at the office too.”

“If you ever want a quiet space, feel free to drop by the shop.” The tailor offered.

“I will try to make it.” Shiro nodded, heartened by the suggestion of friendship.

“It looks like I came here in time, too.” Coran pointed out the tables were being cleared of food. Sir Klaizap and his sons were putting buckets of flowers out, in every color Shiro could name. “I cannot wait to show off these ruffles on the dance floor!”

“Dancing?” he gulped.

“This was called the Spring Dance, Shiro. Were we supposed to stand still?” the tailor shrugged.

“…right.” The women started to gather around the buckets, plucking a single stem carefully for themselves. “How does this work?”

“Ah, you see. Traditionally, a dashing young fellow would a charming young lady to dance.” He held out his hand, then clenched it, “Today it is the opposite. We could admit to ourselves that certain traditions are borne out of outright malice or neglect to understand changing social structures. But that would require an honest look on who benefits from those traditions and a continual effort to permanently shift from anything that unfairly favors one group over the other.”

Shiro nodded, feeling confused yet content with it. The tailor had rambled like this before, and it was a matter of time when he would get back to the answer.

Coran continued, “Yet instead, we subvert these traditions only one day of the year and do not think of them otherwise. We do not ask ourselves: why can’t men be passive? And why can’t women be active? What do we do when they display those traits they tradition dictates they shouldn’t have?”

Shiro felt the odd silence after. “…Are those questions for me?” he broached.

“Oh no, Shiro. They’re for everyone.” Coran waived his gloved hand at him. “Now, the ladies will pick a flower and give it to one of the men. He can put it in his hat, and accept the dance.”

The quiet hope he didn’t realize he had was squashed. “Is there a prize at the end for the man who gets the most?” Shiro sighed, feeling as if he aged a century in a few moments.

“Nothing official.” Coran patted his shoulder in commiseration. “Men aren’t ever free from competition, especially among themselves. It’s a terrible habit to have, worse if the whole world supports it.” The tailor grinned at Shiro. “But aren’t you lucky? You don’t have a hat. Isn’t that freeing?”

Shiro opened his mouth, starting to object. It was _lonely_. He felt set apart from everyone, left out.

“Coran Coran, my _gor_ ~geous man!” an older woman rushed up to them. “A Cosmo for a dance, dear?” she held up the pink flower.

“Oh! I’m off, dear boy! Enjoy!” he tucked it behind his ear and spun off with his partner.

Shiro nodded politely. He wasn’t worried if he was going to get anyone. He was disqualified from the start. This dance was just a chance for people to meet and marry. While there were many rich families in Arus who wouldn’t be burdened with him, he doubted he would be anyone’s first choice for a husband. What kind of partner would he make; scarred, strange, with a single hand to hold? It was better build his own future than to worry if their feelings would change. So Shiro wrapped his heart and tucked it deep in his chest, where it wouldn’t bother him. He focused his mind on the people in the crowd, the society that was on display, moving like clockwork without him.

The dance was unfamiliar, a circle that the guests wove in and out of. Lotor had several partners. Two of his hangers-on actually danced with each other. Pidge decided to ask Hunk, and even one of the tailor’s apprentices. The other, in red, had carelessly trod on some poor girl’s toes. Colleen had joined Coran and they had their heads bowed, gossiping discreetly.

Then there was a polite cough nearby. Someone offered a yellow-and-black flower up to him. He followed their brown fingers up to their face, feeling a flush of warmth. Miss Altea, with her blue eyes striking straight through his soul, was asking him to dance. He did a quick look around, but there wasn’t anyone nearby. He still had the blush on his face as he stammered, “M-Miss?” she had to be mistaken. There had to be someone else.

“Allura is fine.” She replied. “I just needed an opportunity to speak with you about your company, mister…” her voice was gentle.

“Shiro is fine.” He parroted. So she was focused on her business, nothing wrong with that. “Wouldn’t you need to speak with Lotor? I can’t actually make any decisions.”

“I find that working with someone on the ground level achieves many good results.” She tented her fingers, flower still between them. “I assume you remember the day I came into your office?”

“Yes.” He said far too quickly.

“Lotor has done many of the things he had promised since then. However, there’s one more thing I need settled. I suppose by helping me, you can fix his oversight?” her voice went soft. “Zarkon, at least, would appreciate the clearing of his honorable name.”

Shiro blinked, trying to understand what he thought she said. Because if she was doing what he thinks she was doing, she was _good_ at her job. Terrifyingly good.

To paraphrase: She caught him off guard at a social event, validated his usefulness, implied he was more valuable than the _son_ of the _founder_ , and baited him into thinking Zarkon would give him praise for doing what _she_ wanted. Even invoking the concept of honor! No wonder she was running his bosses ragged. Shiro’s world quietly shifted. He could see Allura better now, and his initial fear melted away into respect.

He’ll take the bait. “It would be my honor, Allura.” Shiro smiled, bowing slightly. “What can I do?”

Her smile widened, “Lotor borrowed something from my father ages ago, and still hasn’t given her back. Nalupu, a black mare.”

The world stopped twice in as many minutes. Black, _seriously_? He should have known that was not a proper horse name. She’d be livid if he told her outright. He has to play this carefully. Shiro deliberately slowed his words, trying to spin his shock for confusion. “The…mare? A horse?” thinking back, he did recall a Nalupu being part of the contract negotiations – there were so many things, and Lotor already knew her by name… “You’ve already checked his Estate, I assume?”

Allura sighed, “I have tried, but he has many associates. She must have been spirited away to live with one of them. Being Lotor’s assistant, you could check through records to see if someone is being paid for her care.”

No, Shiro wanted to groan, he wasn’t being paid. She…really thought Zarkon was better than he was. That contract meeting was days ago, if Lotor had wanted to give the mare back he would’ve just taken her from Shiro. Keeping her from her horse was just petty.

He was going to reply, but Allura’s head tilted, eyes focusing behind him. Her brows furrowed, before darting forward and putting the flower behind his ear. The sudden movement, the gentle brush of her fingers near his face made him stammer. “I – uh…”

“Apologies.” She leaned in close. “This whole endeavor must remain our little secret.” The heiress then pulled to a respectable distance, looped her arm around his, and loudly said, “I’m so glad you’ve decided to join me on the dance floor!” She tugged him and he had no choice but to follow.

Shiro gulped as they approached the dancers. “I must confess, I don’t know the steps too well. You might have to lead.”

Her lips pressed together, “As long as you’re willing to follow.”

Shiro nodded. He folded his wooden fingers together with hers, and she placed his other hand on her shoulder. There was a questioning look on her face, so he decided to answer. “It was an earthquake. Houses tend to fall down.”

Allura didn’t press further. “It is a three-step, like a waltz, just a little quicker.” He kept her in focus, reading her expressions, each twitch of her brow and flick of her eyes. The other people in the garden were only blurs of color and shape. She pulled him and he followed, she pushed and he yielded. The steps flowed with the music. “There we go.” Allura finally said. “Not bad for your first dance.”

“You’re a good leader.” Shiro said. “And not just with dancing.”

Her breath caught, “Flattery? I believe you have the point of this gathering all wrong. Aren’t _I_ supposed to be complimenting you and your dress?”

“It’s Coran’s work.” Shiro brushed it off.

“It may be the tailor’s cut, but you certainly fill it out nicely.” They stopped, heat rushing to their faces. She clicked her jaw shut, looking at him in a panic.

“I’m…glad. Looking nice was the intention.” They swayed for a minute more. If the conversation was already ruined, he might as well ask… “Why are you wearing that?”

“The same reason you’re in a dress.” She shot back, unamused.

“No. I mean, you know that dress you wore to the meeting?” He took his hand and made a woosh over his arm. “With that draping fabric over your shoulder?”

“My sari?” her eyebrow quirked up.

Shiro nodded, “Your sari was the most vibrant pink I’ve ever _seen_!” It was partially the dress’s doing, and part her. She was vivid and bright, demanding for her voice to be heard. “I thought you’d be wearing something like that. Something more colorful. You still look nice, but you look…muted.”

Allura frowned, “I liked it better when you were complimenting me.”

“Then I think we’re both getting this dance wrong.”

She didn’t answer, but her lips quirked up into a smile. The song ended too soon. Allura bowed. “I look forward to working with you in the future, Shiro.”

Something in his heart deflated. Allura wasn’t interested in him, just in her request. He picked up his skirt and curtseyed. “As do I, Allura.” His lips turned up in a smile.

Clouds passed over the sun, darkening the garden in short bursts. They were coming over in droves, blotting out the blue sky. A sudden haste fell over the crowd. They rushed to compare hats before dashing off to their carriages, to race the coming storm. Everyone had gathered to see everyone else off. Sir Klaizap had brought each stagecoach out in a line for the people to leave. Then one of his sons ran up to him, panicked. He reappeared shortly and gathered the Holts and Shiro, while the parade of carriages went on behind him.

Sir Klaizap was wringing his hands while he was talking with Colleen. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, but it seems your carriage…broke when we tried to bring it out. Very badly. Your steed is fine, though.” He gave the reins for the copper-colored horse over to Pidge.

“Oh my!” Mrs. Holt said, raising her hand up to her mouth in shock. “That was our only spare! There’s no way you can repair it, can you?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Sir Klaizap said. “It’s in bad shape, not even repairs would help.”

“What do we do?” Pidge patted Boric Acid on the nose. “She can’t take more than one person.”

Hunk came by on a large tawny steed. “Well, I can take Pidge on Tourmaline, if she doesn’t mind.”

“That’s highly indecent!” Colleen nearly shouted. “I will ride with the Garrett boy.” She nodded, folding her arms together.

Shiro coughed into his hand. “Do you _want_ to be seen gallivanting about with a young man while your husband is away?”

Colleen relaxed her stance, still looking angry. “…fair enough.” She climbed onto Boric Acid and pointed at Hunk. “You must stay within sight at all times, do you understand me?”

“Yes ma’am.” Hunk nodded. He pulled Pidge up onto Tourmaline.

The young lady looked down at Shiro. “We can come back for you.”

“I will be fine walking. It’s not far.” He reassured her.

“Just follow the trail.” Colleen said.

Shiro waived them off as they started their journey. There was no time to waste. It had rained off and on, distorting the pathway. The ground was thick was grass, hiding small plots of mud.

He couldn’t even get a few steps from the gate before a brown and white horse trotted near. Lotor was astride it, haughty. He tipped his hat, the brim bursting with flowers. “Such a shame about what happened with your cart.” He said in a sad tone. “But it is better as firewood.” His smile was fit to cut glass.

Shiro would not be cowed. He merely smiled. “It was very lucky it broke at the party, and not earlier while we were riding in it.” He wouldn’t give Lotor the satisfaction of seeing him beg. He just had to ask in a way that _he_ had to offer a ride. “I suppose I’m going to be tired tomorrow from this long trek.” Shiro cautiously presented.

“As am I from so many dances.” Lotor hummed, either too dense to pick up on the question or too smart to fall for it.

“You seem popular with the women here.” Shiro noted, “From the way you act, you should be able to choose one, rather than cast out for so many.”

Lotor laughed. “It pays to be picky, dear Shiro.” Then he sobered, head bowing. “Father has his heart set on a business match, and you understand how hard it is to convince him of anything else.”

Shiro hummed, understanding Zarkon’s iron will all too well.

Lotor straightened upright, as if realizing he made a mistake in trying to connect. His voice went loud. “If you _must_ insist, Shirogane!” He pulled his horse to block Shiro’s path, looking down on him. “I was only doing the gentlemanly thing, after all. While in Rome, and all that!”

What had gotten into hi- Shiro tried not to sigh. Lotor probably spotted someone else. The heir kept two faces at the least and swapped them around like they were the latest fashion. Shiro looked behind him, wondering who it was that got Lotor to throw him under the proverbial stagecoach.

His breath caught in his throat. _Her again_. Allura was approaching, steady as ever. Her hair was partially undone, silver tresses spilling down her back.

Lotor took the moment, “My lovely Allura, would you like an escort home? It seems as if it would rain soon, and I’d hate for you to be caught in it.”

Allura shook her head, “The air before a storm has such a peculiar taste. I’d rather enjoy it on the ground rather than your horse.”

Lotor sniffed, “If you must.” He trotted away.

Shiro started to walk with Allura beside him. The conversation dried up after the exchange of pleasantries. The mud stuck to his geta, making him overthink his steps and stumble. Allura kept by his side. Carts and carriages overtook them, yet she didn’t pay them mind. He tried to puzzle out her presence. Yes, she may have shown up only to insult Lotor, but that doesn’t explain why she was still here.

“We’ve left the party a while ago, Allura.” He broached, “You don’t have to accompany me home.”

She gasped in shock, as if offended, “I am simply walking in the same direction as you are!”

That would be funny, if he wasn’t so tired of people masking their intentions. Shiro stopped walking, refusing to play along anymore. “Why are you still talking to me?” he demanded, “I agreed to help you, what more do you need to know?”

Allura stepped closer. “Maybe I _want_ to know more.” Her voice went soft, “Why did you come to Arus, Shiro?”

Shiro saw genuine concern in her eyes. This could be it, a _real_ connection. His grip on his heart loosened, and he sighed. “Everyone back home knew who I was before…” he lost the words, so he lifted his prosthetic. “It was like they were mourning me while I was in front of them. They couldn’t accept that I _can’t be_ what I once was. I can only be what I am now.”

Allura nodded. “Lost opportunities can haunt many people. Especially when everyone seems to have expectations about what you should be.” There was a hint of bitter truth on her tongue. _Oh_. She knew that burden well. Allura was an heiress, by all expectations, she shouldn’t be concerned with business, only to secure a husband. Yet she decided to forge her own path, aspiring beyond managing a home to manage a company. Shiro admired her determination. He smiled, starting to walk beside her. He should know better than to misjudge. Unfortunately, he misjudged the stability of the pathway and slipped. There were two shouts as he tumbled to the ground.

“Are you alright?” Allura hovered over him.

Shiro rolled over, taking stock. “Nothing’s hurting, at least.” His dress was now damp, most likely stained. He lost a sandal, and he tried to keep the foot up so it wouldn’t get muddy. “Coran is going to be so disappointed.”

“He will be fine. I used to do much worse when I was younger.” Allura looked and waited for a nod before she pulled his footwear off. He shivered when his feet touched the cold ground. “You chose a good shade of blue, it can handle some stains.” She rolled the tabi up together, and suddenly had both muddy geta in her hand. “Where can I? Ah-ha!” Allura started to unbutton her vest, then her shirt.

Heat started to rush to Shiro’s cheeks. “Um.” She pulled the shirt out from under the vest and quickly put his footwear inside, tying it into a makeshift sack. Allura had arranged her waistcoat to cover anything truly indecent, but Shiro admitted he may have to avert his eyes for the rest of the day. There was mud all over the bottom of the geta, too. “Your shirt-” would get dirty, he started to protest.

“I can find a spare easily.” She waved, as if dismissing him. “Your geta would be very hard to replace out here.” Allura smiled and pulled him upward.

There was a sudden, sharp pain in his ankle. Shiro couldn’t stop himself from hissing and leaning on her. To his surprise, she didn’t buckle. “Nevermind, I think I’ll sit for a little longer.” She shouldn’t have to shoulder his weight. “I think Matt left his crutches somewhere. You can go ahead and ask Pidge to find them for me.”

Allura shook her head. “Nonsense! We’re nearly there! Just, hold this…” she gave him his shoes.

He grasped the bundle, trying to find a good gripping point. “I don’t see another wa- _hey_!” She hooked her arm under his legs while he was distracted, lifting him up. “Allura!?!” he yelped, casting his prosthetic around her shoulders. He grabbed the dress, pulling it up to his lap so she wouldn’t step on it.

He was so close to her face, he could see her cheeks flush darker. “Why wait?” Her smile was daringly wide. Allura’s steps were confident, eyes focused ahead to the Holt Estate. There was a rumble in the distance, not unlike her heavy breaths as she carried him. The baffling thought that she would do this for someone she just met? The sheer strength of her, in body and mind, nearly made him swoon. Her eyes flickered back, once or twice, ice blue somehow filled with warm amusement.

He must look foolish, staring at her. Shiro averted his eyes. “The stables are closer.” The rest was in silence, as he concentrated on the slowly approaching building. Allura propped him up on the open doorframe, and headed inside. “Cow stool is on your left.”

She sat down with a grateful sigh. “I hope you don’t mind if I use it first.”

“Use it as long as you need to.” He assured. Shiro flexed his foot, still feeling a twinge of pain. He took a glance outside, where the rain was starting to fall. “Made it just in time.”

Allura was looking as well, her lips tugged downward. “I can’t stay for long.” The life of an heiress is rarely still. He would have loved to enjoy this moment in the rain longer, but she’s waited long enough.

“I’m not about to send you out in that.” Shiro said. He grabbed a rake from the wall for support. “…Hold on.” He hobbled over to one of the stalls, to one that looked full of shadows. Shiro took a carrot from the bag that was hanging nearby and knocked on the wood. The shadows suddenly had two eyes, and a long face with small, triangle shaped ears. He felt warm breath on his hand as the mare’s teeth nibbled on the carrot.

Allura was suddenly beside him. There was a quiet gasp, and her hand reached out to Black’s snout. “Nalupu…?” The mare whinnied in response and knocked her head into Allura’s. “There you are!” Her face split into a bright smile.

“You were right about Zarkon moving her.” Shiro said.

“Wait…no one told you about her at all, did they?” Allura looked at him, brows furrowed in concern. “Shiro. It’s enough to know that she’s being cared for.” She reached out to him, grasping his hand in hers. “If this will harm your employment, than I cannot accept it.”

“Zarkon agreed that Nalupu would return to you, and Lotor confirmed it. They shouldn’t be surprised when I carry out their orders.” There was a sudden flash with booming thunder following it. Shiro got an idea. “She won’t take the bridle, but at least I can give you a saddle.” He pushed.

“A bridle? A saddle? No, no.” Allura shook her head. “I merely need a cloak for the rain.”

Shiro didn’t even question it. With what he had seen her do today, riding bareback was simply another one of her charms. “The cloaks are near the door.” He guided the mare to face the wall. “Can you close the gate and stand back?”

She did so. “Shiro, what are you doing?”

It would be better to show her. Shiro cleared his throat. “ _Kick_.” Nalupu immediately kicked her back feet, making the wood split. “Oh, no.” he said calmly while motioning Allura to open the gate. “The thunderstorms must have spooked her.” He guided the mare out of the stall. “She must have broken free in the night, she could be anywhere in Arus by now!” he put his hand to his face, acting shocked.

Allura’s eyes widened, and she laughed. “And how lucky am I? To find what I deserve and desire, just wandering about?”

“Exceptionally lucky.” Shiro replied, sitting down on the cow stool.

She reached out to him, briefly cradling his head in her hands. “I was lucky to find the mare as well.” He heard the smile in her voice, and felt a soft kiss to his forehead. Heat rushed to his face. Allura pulled away, looking satisfied with herself. She cast the cloak over herself and then was gone, disappearing into the rain.

He doesn’t see her the next day, or the day after. It makes sense, she’s a busy woman, and he’s busy as well. He washes her shirt, and does his best to return it. While his penmanship isn’t the best, practice will make it better, he assures in his accompanying letter.

There’s a delivery at the office, in the next week. Coran’s apprentice smiles wide, cradling the box right before he hands it over. The boy wasn’t told who it was from or who it was for. They make Shiro open it. Once they realize what it contained, Zarkon only grumbled and turned away. Lotor has to press his hand to his face to stop himself from laughing. Shiro, on the other hand, had wide eyes and a small, bewildered smile. He lifts the objects up, and a small laugh bubbles up from his throat. Of course she would.

Cradled in his hand was a vibrant pink necktie and matching handkerchief.

-

**Notes:**

Geta are the iconic Japanese wooden shoes, and tabi are the split-toed socks that go with them.

Google Translate says Nalupu means Black in Telugu, which is a common Indian language. The Holt’s horse, Boric Acid, is a science joke. If you burn boric acid you get a Green flame. Hunk’s horse is Tourmaline, a Yellow gemstone, which ties into it being the Earth Lion.

I did just a little bit of research on Romance Tropes so here is everyone’s roles: Shiro is the Clumsy New in Town Feisty Ingénue. Lotor is the Perfect Man on the Outside, Bastard on the Inside. Colleen is the Mother Worried her Kids won’t Land a Good Match. Allura is the Handsome Rich Single with a Dark Past. Coran is the Rich Eccentric Aunt.

The necktie ending was a good point to stop it, or else I would've deleted it and gone further. Because they were out in the rain and Shiro got wet, he’s going to be sick in bed. Dramatically Sick, and Lotor’s going to take the opportunity to tell Allura “No, he’s avoiding you because he hates you.” To stir up some Melodrama. It would all tie into a Plot (TM) by Zarkon and Lotor to make Shiro look as bad as possible as a potential husband so Allura will “have to” marry Lotor. But it backfires, because Allura isn’t shallow and Shiro is a sweetheart.

Thank you Rouge Paladin for the inspiration! Thank you to everyone in the Shallura tag on Tumblr for lurking and posting, you’re all fantastic!


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